


scariff

by windupkatya



Category: The Girl Talk
Genre: Dublin - Freeform, Gen, Song fic, based off an ed sheeran song, lowercase intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windupkatya/pseuds/windupkatya
Summary: jon, jack, mark, and ben all get home after a year of touring aboard and all find themselves sitting on a hill, reminiscing of what used to be.(based off castle on a hill by ed sheeran)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [proudlygoingnowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudlygoingnowhere/gifts).



> i hope you guys like this!!! i dedicate this to ilana because she's really, really great and i love this idea that she made up!!  
> also i haven't posted in so long im so soRRY i've been having major writers block

the irish breeze danced across mark’s skin as he walked out the airport terminal, reclaiming what was absent for so long. a smile crept onto his lips as the the lead singer took it all in- the rolling hills, winding roads, and faint smell of ale in the air. memories that once were reality flooded mark’s mind, sparking a fuzzy sensation in his chest. there him, jack, jon and ben were. after a year of touring, the girl talk band found themselves back in ireland. back where it all began for them. back home. 

the 4 of them crammed themselves into the back of a taxi, all too busy admiring the scenery they missed so much to talk. their cabbie flicked on the radio, flipping through channels before deciding on ‘castle on a hill’ by ed sheeran. the band hardly noticed; jon was busy filming for his snapchat, jack was absentmindedly thumbing the hangnail on his pinkie, and ben had his head resting against jack’s shoulder. 

“guys,” mark started, “we’re actually home.” 

the three progressively stopped what they were doing and turned to their lead singer, a smile lighting up on each of their faces. 

“yeah, we really are.” jon mumbled, exhaling deeply. 

jack couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “i’d never thought that we’d all miss that horrible, hot attic.” 

ben joined in as the drummer’s house came into view. “neither did i, but then again i never thought i’d be so happy to be back in ireland.” 

they all agreed, eagerness seeped into their veins as the van slowed to a halt. jon jumped out first, almost immediately going to unlock the front door of jack’s house with the key found underneath the welcoming mat. the rest followed, grabbing their duffle bags and instruments. mark tossed their driver 50 euros, not waiting for his change. 

ben found his way to the living room couch before anything, landing with a soft exhale from the cushions underneath him. the others wandered into the kitchen, looking around at the memories that ghosted each square inch. the empty bottles that they left on the counter still sat there, except a layer of dust covered the glossy green remains. it felt eerie, as if they were looking at the past square in the eye.

jon leaned his bass against the staircase, beelining his way toward the fridge. “does anyone else want a beer?”

-

it was a cool day in scariff, jack could tell by the crisp feeling in the air that it had just recently rained. as the band sipped on their freshly opened beers, they found themselves following the path that echoed with their drunken laughter from many moons ago. mark led the pack, even though all of them knew how to get to the final destination- the hill. 

jon and jack first discovered the piece of heaven at age 15, during a summer’s night that was in need of a secluded place. anger was the main emotion that evening, the childhood friends were venting back and forth to each other. too busy to focus on direction, they wound up on top of a hill that showed off the lights of the city below. ever since, it’s become the band’s go-to place for everything.

the four sat themselves at the top of the grass, a rusty cooler in the middle of their semicircle. the sun was going into it’s evening hibernation, leaving residue of the day across the irish sky. 

“i can’t leave that this was once our tour,” mark gestured at the city below them, “every date was once at an underground bar where people went to get drunk with their shams. we were merely the soundtrack to some odd nights, but now we’re the main artist.” 

ben exhaled, crossing his legs in front of him. “it’s insane. if you told me when i joined the girl talk that i’d be going to canada for a headlining tour, i’d laugh in your face.” 

“i cheers to that.” jon laughed, taking a swig of his guinness. jack followed suit, tilting his bottle toward the three others before sipping the golden liquid inside. 

“no matter where i go, this will always be my home. even when i’m across the world in a beautiful country surrounded by amazing fans, my heart will call me back here. back to scariff, back to jack’s attic.” mark continued, chuckling at the end. 

“we’re the kings of that attic. it’s our castle on a hill.” jack elbowed mark, a smiled etched between his cheeks. 

the day became night as the band remained on the patch of grass. music and memories were hushed into the dead of night, and even though tiredness ached their bones, none of them wanted to sleep. this night is what they all craved for so long, to be where they belong; on that special hill overlooking jack’s hometown, a glass bottle in their hands, and laughter filling their chests. even if one day they find themselves with fame out of the picture, they’ll have this, and that’s all that mattered.


End file.
